


Hot Tubs, Ocean's Eleven, and Eurovision Song Contest

by Copperstown



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Eurovision, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copperstown/pseuds/Copperstown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are on holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Tubs, Ocean's Eleven, and Eurovision Song Contest

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for my sister, for doing her chemistry revision.

The hot tub is steaming, the sun is setting, and the other boys have been gone for less than two minutes, but it’s been enough time for Liam to crawl onto Zayn’s lap, straddling him on the bench. Zayn’s hands are roaming Liam’s back, Liam’s hands are cupping Zayn’s jaw, and his tongue is making a thorough exploration of Zayn’s mouth. It’s summer, it’s hot, they’re both in swim shorts, and they’ve been teasing each other all day. They’re not kidding around.

Which is probably why they get the following reaction.

“Oh god! My eyes! My poor virgin eyes!” Harry’s voice makes Liam’s head snap up and away from Zayn’s mouth.

“You are hardly a virgin,” Louis says, which makes Harry blush, and makes Liam and Zayn smirk. “I’ve heard you and Niall.” That makes Niall hide behind his sandwich. “That being said, I do see your point. Do you boys have to do that in there? We all have to sit in that water.”

“Oh, calm your tits, Lou, we weren’t doing anything,” Zayn says. Louis raises a questioning eyebrow. “Nothing involving bodily fluids other than spit, anyway.”

“What a charming picture,” Louis comments, scrunching up his nose. Harry and Niall do likewise on either side of him.

Then Niall shrugs.

“You know Harry, we could join them,” he says.

“We could,” Harry agrees. His shoulders lift and his eyes light up.

Louis looks less than impressed.

“You are kidding me, right?” he asks. Niall and Harry just smirk and head towards the hot tub. “Right, I will not stand for this. You are coupling up and ganging up on me. I won’t stand for that sort of treatment.”

“What are you gonna do?” Liam asks, and he’s caught between laughing at Louis and moaning at Zayn kissing his neck.

“I’m gonna leave. Leave all you lovebirds together, let you act out your voyeuristic tendencies, get an orgy going, or whatever it is you’re planning on doing,” Louis replies. “I’ll just go in and watch some Alan Carr: Chatty Man or something. I think that’s on tonight.”

“How exactly is that you refusing to stand for this kind of treatment?” Harry questions. Liam isn’t actually sure whether or not Harry is coherent enough to hear the answer though, because he and Niall have settled themselves into the hot tub, across from Liam and Zayn, and Niall is half on top of Harry, giving some TLC to Harry’s collar bone.

“I’ll call Eleanor tonight and have very loud phone sex with her,” Louis replies smugly. Niall looks up from what he’s doing, both him and Harry pale faced.

Louis’ room is right next to Harry and Niall’s, and they’ve already discovered that the walls are less than thick.

“You wouldn’t,” Niall says. Zayn buries his head in Liam’s shoulder, and Liam is pretty sure he’s laughing.

“Oh, I would,” Louis counters.

“Eleanor wouldn’t,” Harry says.

“Actually, given how many times I’ve complained to her about the four of you having loud sex – not together, obviously. Obviously in pairs, the other thing sounded wrong,” Louis shakes his head a little to get back on track. “Anyway, after how much I’ve complained about you all to her, I think she might actually be very willing to help me get a little revenge.”

Before Niall and Harry can pry themselves apart, and then pry Zayn and Liam apart, so that Louis can join them in the hot tub again and they can forget all about it, Louis has waved goodbye and gone back inside.

“Tonight won’t be fun,” Harry sighs.

“Might as well enjoy it now, then,” Zayn shrugs and goes back to licking Liam’s neck.

Liam is too busy making out with Zayn to find out what Harry and Niall decide, but given that Harry is whimpering a minute later, Liam is very confident that Harry and Niall decided to make the most of the time now.

 

“If we were to pull off a robbery like this,” Harry says suddenly. _Ocean’s Eleven_ is playing on the TV, so it’s not exactly a surprising topic, but they’ve all been quiet for the first twenty minutes. “Louis would be our Danny Ocean.”

“How’d you figure?” Niall asks from where his head is resting on Harry’s chest.

“The leader with the elaborate revenge plan, that sounds like Louis,” Harry replies.

“Hey!” Louis sounds offended, and with good reason. “When do I make elaborate revenge plans?”

“You had loud phone sex with Eleanor the other night because we were making out in the hot tub,” Harry says, as if it should be obvious.

“Who would the rest of us be?” Liam asks, interrupting whatever Louis was going to say.

“Obviously Niall would be Rusty,” Louis says instead. “Eats constantly, has a backup plan for everything, the second-in-command.”

“I always figured I’d be Frank or Saul,” Niall muses.

“Why?” Zayn asks with a frown.

“I’m Irish,” Niall replies as if that explains everything. It doesn’t, and they all have facial expressions that tell Niall that, so he continues. “I could play the undermined Irishman who thinks the NGC guy hates Ireland, like Frank thinks Linus’ character is racist. Or I could play the European business man thing, like Saul.”

“Nah, I agree with Louis,” Harry says. “I think you’d be better suited as Rusty.”

“Then who would you be?” Niall asks and pokes Harry in the stomach. Harry and Liam reply at the same time.

Louis says, “Livingston.”

Liam says, “Linus.”

“I take offense at you thinking it’d be Livingston,” Harry tells Louis, although he’s smiling, so he’s not serious.

“You’re best with computers, aren’t you?” Louis points out. “And Livingston’s cool, even if he is a nerdy, nervous wreck. Besides, Liam would be Linus. He’s charming enough and a good enough actor to make Terry Benedict like him and then forget him again. And he’s got nimble fingers, from what I hear from Zayn.”

Liam blushes at that, while Niall and Harry laugh.

“That he does,” Zayn says, and Liam blushes even more. The other three scrunch up their faces.

“TMI, lads,” Harry says.

“Zayn could be our Frank Catton,” Niall muses.

“And Simon would be our Reuben,” Louis says.

“I’m terrible at cards,” Zayn says.

“Yeah, and I can’t actually hack into anything,” Harry says. “It’s not like we’re actually planning a robbery here, Zayn.”

“Oh no,” Louis says. “No, we’d be terrible thieves.”

“I’ve stolen your underwear on several occasions,” Niall tells him.

“I know, you’re very bad at hiding it,” Louis smirks. “I want it all back, too.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t like the winning song,” Harry begins. The Eurovision Song Contest CD is playing from the stereo (Louis had bought it when he went grocery shopping earlier), while Liam and Niall play Xbox. Louis is looking up cheats and walkthroughs for them, while Zayn doodles on a notepad and waits for it to be his turn. Harry is just twirling the CD cover in his hands. “I think it’s great. The flute sounds great, the drums sound great, the singer is great. And it’s not that I don’t think it deserves to win. I just can’t understand why Britain never gets any high points, even when we pull out the big guns.”

“What place did we get this year?” Louis asks, without looking up from the screen.

“Don’t remember. But I do remember that we didn’t get a single twelve points, and I’m pretty sure we didn’t get any eights or tens either. And if we did, we could count them all on one hand,” Harry says. “And I don’t get why. We had Blue the other year, and we only got around 100 points.”

“It’s because no one likes us,” Zayn says.

“Eurovision may be a simple song contest, but it’s also very political when it comes to the voting,” Louis explains. “People vote for their neighboring countries first. Western Europe votes for Western Europe, Eastern Europe votes for Eastern Europe. People don’t vote for countries they remember having a strife with, and the British Empire was huge and expanding and full of racist dicks who believed they were better than everyone else. So you can’t really blame them, can you?”

“It’s sad, really,” Harry says. “Does that mean we’ll never win?”

“Don’t know, these things could always change,” Louis says. “And we placed as number 19 with 23 points. No eights, tens, or twelves. In 2011, we placed at number 11 with Blue, with exactly 100 points.”

“Oh, I love this one,” Liam says as _Marry Me_ starts playing. “It’s from Finland, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry replies. “I liked it too, I wish it’d gotten more points.”

“That was the one with the lesbian kiss. That was a good one,” Niall says.

“And the lesbian kiss is probably why it didn’t get many points, if we’re honest,” Zayn mumbles.

“Damn, I died,” Liam says and hands Zayn the controller. “If we got ask to represent the UK at Eurovision, would we say yes?”

“Of course we would,” Harry says. “Free publicity in Europe, great fun at a competition. Why wouldn’t we say yes?”

“True,” Liam agrees.

“The question is, would we do well?” Harry says.

“We’d probably at least do as well as Blue,” Louis replies. “We have a lot of fans all around, I’m sure we could scrape together a decent amount of votes, by UK standards. We’d have to be very memorable without being too controversial to win, though.”

“I think we could win,” Niall says.

“That’s the spirit!” Zayn grins and pats Niall on the back. “Damn, I died. Why are you so good at this, Niall?”

“My turn again,” Liam says, and Zayn throws the controller at him.

“Right, no more Eurovision talk, at least not of that kind,” Louis orders. “That’s work talk, and this is a holiday. This is our summer holiday, away from fans and paparazzi and media and responsibilities and whatnot. It’s our lads only vacation.”

“Yeah!” Harry shouts, pumping one fist in the air.

“That being said, I almost wish I’d brought Eleanor,” Louis muses. Niall shoves him, but they all laugh.

 

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> The winner of the Eurovision Song Contest was Denmark (!!!!) with the song "Only Teardrops" by Emmelie de Forrest. You can find all the songs on YouTube, if you want.


End file.
